A Sleepover

Gretchen didn't come back to Philadelphia much after she moved to Long Island. I can only remember two or three trips. The one where she and Langdon and I went to L'Etage (earlier photos), and this one where she and Christine wound up at my house. Langdon was also supposed to wind up at my house, but Langdon had a date. As penalty for having a date, Langdon received some very loud and moderately incoherent voicemails around three o'clock in the morning, some of which were just the three of us screaming the lyrics to "It's Raining Men" at top volume. (Fortunately, my old apartment was fairly secluded, and I could make all the noise I wanted without bothering anyone.) I believe Dave probably also received a voicemail or two. I went to bed in my room, Christine in the front guest room and Gretchen in the little guestroom at the back of the third floor, but this proved to be no fun at all, and we all wound up in Christine's bed in time to leave voicemails for people before passing out. I remember waking up and diving for our cell phones to check the outgoing call history to find out who needed to be called with an explanation. This was May of 2003.

Gretchen was very proud of herself for driving all the way down from New York in her new Audi. It was one of her longest drives on her own. Did we go to South Street? I know that we went to the King of Prussia mall the next day, because I remember going to Nordstrom Rack and the sportsbar in the same part of the mall. We refused to take our sunglasses off in the sportsbar, and we insisted on ordering orange juice and triple sec, which is what we occasionally used to drink in high school, on the extremely rare occasions we did drink. At Nordstrom Rack, we were so beside ourselves having laughed for over twenty-four hours straight, that Gretchen wound up waving around the largest underwear she could find, and it sent us into convulsions. I'm sure we were the most obnoxious customers that day.